


Leave My Old Shadow Behind

by FallingLikeThis



Series: Burlesque Harry [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Burlesque, Crushes, Feminization, Harry in Panties, Humor, Louis in Panties, M/M, Niall is mentioned - Freeform, No Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Waiter Harry, Zayn is in this too but I don't call him by name, hopefully, i guess?, in THIS part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: Harry’s always felt that he was meant for more than small town life. He’d felt it when he was in his high school production of Our Town. He feels it every time he sings karaoke at the coffee house on Tuesdays. Maybe that’s why he feels like he’s suffocating. He takes his break from Lissie’s Diner at exactly 8:15, just like every other night, escaping out the back door to get some fresh air. It doesn’t help. The air here feels stale, stagnant. Just like his life. He dreams of so much more.





	Leave My Old Shadow Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful betas Michelle and Lisa. They only got to view some of this so remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Prompt 361: The Fear of your life imploding.

Harry’s always felt that he was meant for more than small town life. He’d felt it when he was in his high school production of _Our Town_ . He feels it every time he sings karaoke at the coffee house on Tuesdays. Maybe that’s why he feels like he’s suffocating. He takes his break from Lissie’s Diner at exactly 8:15, just like every other night, escaping out the back door to get some fresh air. It doesn’t help. The air here feels stale, stagnant. Just like his life. He dreams of _so much more_.

“Help a girl out?” Violet calls from behind the screen door, her hands full of trash bags.

Harry moves to open the door for her, pulling carefully so it doesn’t fall off the hinges again, standing out of the way as she crosses over the threshold. Really, Lissie just needs to get a new door instead of having Leon keep fixing the old one over and over again.

Once Violet is outside, Harry lets the door swing shut and goes to open the dumpster for her. He takes one of the bags from her hands and tosses it in while she disposes of the other herself.

She sighs when her hands are empty and closes the dumpster again. “Only two hours left.”

“Yeah, only two hours,” Harry repeats. They do this same routine every day. His break, the trash, the heavy sigh and reminder that there’s only two hours left. Same shit, every single day. It’s stifling. Harry is going to die in this nowhere town, a nobody who never did anything.

Violet sighs again and turns to head back inside. Harry often wonders if she ever feels the same things he does and it’s suddenly urgent that he knows the answer.

“Violet,” he calls when she reached for the screen door handle.

She turns her head, eyes curious as she looks back at him. “What?”

“Do you ever feel like getting out of this place?”

“Lissie’s? Nah. She’s pretty good to us. Better than that slave driver over at Downtown Charlie’s.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Harry shakes his head, words coming out more desperately than he intended but he can’t stop them once he’s started. “I meant this town and just…everything in it.”

“I mean, sure,” she says with a careless shrug. “One day.”

Harry lets her leave when she turns away from him. He leans back against the brick wall of _Shooters_ , the pool hall next door, and hangs his head.

Suddenly, it feels like all of his frustrations and fears are building up all at once, bubbling over in his mind and racing through his bloodstream. He needs to get away from here. Not “one day” _. Today_. Before all of his regrets build up and make his entire life implode, crushing him and fading everything to black before he’s even caught a glimpse of what Technicolor looks like.

He thinks about just taking off right then, not even finishing his shift. Now that he’s made up his mind to go, he wants to be gone as soon as possible. But Violet wasn’t lying when she said Lissie was good to them. She deserves better than Harry just deserting her like that, so he finishes his shift and _then_ he quits. She listens while he explains, because he can’t just leave her hanging without an explanation, and then she hands him a wad of cash from the pile she’d been counting for deposit.   

“Consider it your last paycheck,” she says, with a little quirk to the corner of her mouth as Harry stares down at the money in his hand.

“Thank you,” he eventually manages to say. He hadn’t been expecting that. He looks up at Lissie and sees that she’s gone back to stuffing the rest of the cash into a deposit bag. “I heard that guy, Niall, at the gas station is trying to find a new job. I’ll send him your way before I leave.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Lissie tells him, standing and putting the deposit bag in the safe behind her desk for safekeeping until morning. “You think I don’t remember what it was like to have dreams bigger than this town?”

“Wasn’t the diner your dream?” Harry wonders, clutching tightly to the money in his hand as he moves to shove it in his pocket.

“Ha!” Lissie laughs loudly, turning to pick up her jacket and slip it on. “Not even close. But don’t you worry about me. Everything turned out alright for me in the long run. Go on, get out of here. Go make good things happen.”

When Lissie walks by to open the door to her office to let them both out, Harry can’t help himself, he wraps his arms around her neck. “Thank you,” he says again, relief and gratitude flooding his voice.

Lissie laughs, returning the hug briefly, before pushing him away gently. “Go chase that dream, sweetheart.”

So, Harry does. He goes home and packs everything that’s important to him in a suitcase and a duffle, tops his car off at Winston’s gas station, informs a grateful Niall of an opening at a certain diner he knows, and hits the road to chase his dream.

One of these days, Harry swears to himself as he speeds down the highway, one of these days, his name is gonna be in lights.

*

Apartment hunting in the big city is…not fun. The best Harry can find for the amount of money he got from selling his car is a rundown one bedroom with a shower stall that’s missing a door and a toilet that doesn’t flush unless you go through a complicated series of steps. But it’s okay, Harry tells himself, he won’t be here long. Just long enough to make himself a name in this city.

He unpacks his bags, takes a (cold) shower, and dresses to impress before setting out with “The Backstage Pass” adverts for shows looking for singers, dancers, and actors.

It’s after eight that night when Harry decides to give up for the day. He checks his wallet to see if he’s got enough money for some takeout for dinner. He’s got maybe fifteen dollars he can spare if he sticks to the absolute basics when he buys groceries la—

All thoughts stop. Time is suspended. Because Harry has now laid eyes on the most gorgeous thing he thinks he’s ever seen.

Up on the fire escape of the building across the street is a beautiful boy. He’s wearing a black corset with matching garter belt and panties, pulling up his stockings as he laughs with someone inside. Harry feels breathless at the sight of him.

He stumbles to the corner and waits with a small crowd for the light to change, feeling bereft when the boy climbs back into the building and disappears from Harry’s line of vision. He ends up in front of a place called Sirens, a burlesque lounge, and feels a thrill down to his very bones at the mere idea of what happens behind their doors.

He swallows, opens the door, and walks inside.

There’s another pretty boy behind the counter right inside the door. He’s wearing heavy eyeliner and a smirk like he knows Harry’s just fallen down the rabbit hole, still naïve to Wonderland’s charms.

“Cover charge is twenty dollars,” the boy tells Harry, holding out his hand. He’s so certain Harry’s just going to hand over the cash, that he’s going to be completely reckless with what little money he has just to quench his curiosity. And he’s right. Harry can really only afford fifteen but he will gladly live on Ramen Noodles for the next month if he has to. He _needs_ to see that boy from outside again.

The door guy clenches the twenty in his hand, and gestures for Harry to make his way past the curtain that’s blocking his view inside with the other hand.

Harry enters the cool, dark room slowly. He doesn’t know if it’s fear of disappointment or just that he’s savoring the anticipation. Maybe it’s a bit of both. He clutches the curtain when he’s right in front of it, takes a deep breath and pulls it to the side.

It really _is_ a wonderland beyond the curtain. There are beautiful people everywhere, both the servers and the dancers on stage. The stage itself is pretty standard but the curtain is one of those old, velvet ones elaborately frilled and deeply scarlet. In fact, the whole place looks a little like some glamour shot from the 50’s. Harry is in love.

He walks over to the bar and sinks down onto a stool, back to the counter, eyes on the stage. Because _there_ , there is the beautiful boy from outside. He’s surrounded by other men, all of whom are wearing masculine trousers and black button up vests, and several women in elaborate lingerie. His voice is raspy, almost smoky, while he sings about the way to a man’s heart. He’s certainly found his way to Harry’s.

“What can I get you?” A voice asks from behind him and Harry turns to see if they’re addressing him.

“I’m sorry?” He asks when he finds a young man with kind brown eyes staring back at him.

“What can I get you to drink?” He asks again patiently. He’s obviously used to having to contend with the dancers on stage.

“Um, I can’t really afford—” Harry lowers his gaze to the bar, a bit embarrassed to admit he has no money, at least, not anymore that he can afford to waste.

“Say no more,” the bartender tells him, reaching for a glass, filling it with water, and placing it in front of Harry. He leans over the bar like he’s going to divulge a secret, so Harry leans in too. “Something I’ve learned from personal experience, if your jaw is going to be hanging open like that, it’s probably best to keep hydrated.”

Harry backs away slowly, glaring a bit but wearing the smile he always wears when he’s being picked on. It’s a bit funny, he can admit it. It’s also true, so he wraps his hand around the glass and takes a deliberate swallow of water, smacking his lips with a satisfied “ahhh” when he’s done.

The bartender chuckles, tips his bowler hat, and goes back to work, leaving Harry alone to watch the show again. Unfortunately, his boy is no longer on stage. Harry looks around, searching frantically for any sign of him.

The lights dim significantly and all the spotlights shine center stage. Harry is helpless against the pull to stare as a stunning dark-skinned beauty in a white, beaded bustier and feathered skirt steps into the circle of light. She swings her hips to the beat played by the house band and runs her hands over her own skin, drawing attention to the unblemished perfection of it. Then, she opens her mouth and out comes a mesmerizing song that has the whole room enraptured. It’s no wonder the place is called _Sirens_.

_This is it_ , Harry realizes. This is the dream he’s been chasing. He wants to be on that stage. He _has_ to be on that stage.

He whips around on his stool and flags down the bartender.

“More water?” The guys asks with a smirk.

“No, thank you. I’d actually much rather have a job, if that’s on the table,” he says earnestly.

The bartender raises a brow at the confession. “Server or performer?”

Harry doesn’t even need to say a word, something about the look on his face when the bartender says the word must give him away. “Ah, performer. Ok, the person to talk to is James. He’ll be backstage right now through that side door over there,” he gestures and Harry follows the point of his finger. “I don’t know if he’s hiring but it’s worth a shot. Tell him Liam sent you.”

“Liam,” Harry repeats. “Ok, thank you.” He starts to head in the direction of the door Liam showed him but stops, remembering his manners. He turns back toward the bar. “It was nice to meet you, Liam.”

“I’d say the same but you never told me your name,” Liam laughs in reply after Harry’s taken a few more steps away.

Harry whirls around again, but keeps walking backwards as he says, “Harry. My name is Harry.”

“Good luck, Harry.”

*

Backstage is a flurry of activity. Harry’s read that phrase in so many books but his imagination never prepared him for this. There are half-dressed men and women running all over the place, looking for missing clothing  or yelling about needing someone to stitch a broken seam.

“Excuse me.”  Harry  tries to stop a blonde woman that’s scurrying by but she doesn’t even notice him.

“Sorry,” he tries again, reaching out to a man that’s putting on his eyeliner at a vanity table, “Can you tell me—“

“Nope. Sorry, hun,” the man says, rushing by and ruffling Harry’s hair as he goes. “I’m on.”

“Can someone please tell me where to find James?” He asks very loudly, causing several people to stop what they’re doing and look at him. A few of the girls giggle and he doesn’t really blame them because he feels like a bit of an ass,  all of the inquisitive eyes on him making it that much worse.

“Yeah.”  One of the girls finally answers him and everyone else goes back to what they were doing, only occasionally throwing glances at the madman that’s come to yell at them for no reason. “He’s in there with Louis.”  She uses her makeup brush to point to a separate door that’s partially open.

“Thank you,” Harry says, steepling  his hands together in front of him in a show of gratitude.  “And sorry for the yelling,” he calls over his shoulder as he hurries in the direction of this apparently rather stealthy James person. He’d better hurry or he might lose him again.

“Louis, if you want to do a duet, I’ll do one with you!” A blond man, who somehow gives Harry the impression of a big teddy bear, is telling someone as Harry arrives at the door.

There’s a snort from someone he can’t see and then, “You’d do a duet with yourself if that was an option.”

“True,” the blond man admits readily. “But none of the other boys are willing to wear a corset and panties and go out there and lay themselves bare on that stage.”

“Well then, get some new boys!” The voice of who Harry assumes to be the mysterious Louis answers.

Sounds like the perfect opening to Harry. He knocks on the door and pushes it open. “Excuse me.”

Then, there are two men staring at him and he’s not saying anything at all because words have lost all meaning. _Louis_ is the beautiful boy from the fire escape. And Harry seems to have forgotten his own name.

Oh. Wait.

“Hi,” Harry manages to breathe out, stare still fixed on Louis.

Louis bites down on a smile and glances at the man who Harry now knows must be James before answering. “Hi,” he returns coyly, eyelashes fluttering to the same rhythm as Harry’s heart.

“Hello,” James cuts in loudly. “And who are you?”

“H-Harry,” he answers shakily. “Liam sent me.”

James sighs. “If he’s out of Patron again, he can just sign it out of the store room, he doesn’t need permission every single time.”

“Oh, no,” Harry shakes his head. “It’s not- I was hoping you might have a job opening.”

“Oh,” James frowns. “Server or performer?”

Harry opens his mouth but James is speaking again before he can answer.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have any openings for performers,” he says, ignoring Louis’ scoff as he looks Harry over. “How’s your balance?”

“Um, legs, not always so good. Arms, rock solid,” Harry answers truthfully. “I was a waiter in a diner for three years, if that helps at all.”

“You’re hired,” James tells him, walking over to yell out the door at some guy fawning all over one of the female dancers. “Adam, you’re fired. Quit trying to sleep with all my girls.”

Adam sneers and backs away from the dancer who looks relieved to be rid of him, untying his apron and tossing it to the floor as he stomps away without a word.

“Ah, there’s your apron,” James gestures to the piece of fabric on the floor but stops Harry before he can move toward it. “On second thought, better burn that one. Don’t know where it’s been. Or don’t know where the _crotch_ under it’s been.”

Harry looks at his new boss with wide, unsure eyes. He wonders if maybe he’s gotten in a little over his head.

“Alright,” James turns to address him face to face, “go talk to Liam, he’ll get you a clean uniform and you can start immediately— you _can_ start immediately, right?”

“Yeah, yes,” Harry nods enthusiastically. No matter what his boss is like, he’s got a job now. Maybe he won’t have to survive on Ramen Noodles after all.

“Great! You can start by getting me a giant glass of Whiskey,” James claps him on his arms, spins him and pushes him away, but not before Louis adds to the order.

“And an amaretto sour for me!”

Harry walks in a daze back to the bar. This… is not what he was expecting. At all.

*

Harry is a waiter again. He’s been a waiter at Sirens for three weeks. Sometimes he wonders if he’s supposed to spend his whole life _waiting_. He almost doesn’t mind though because in between orders for drinks and on his breaks he gets to watch Louis and the other dancers light up the stage. He longs to be one of them and he’s made James promise to let him audition when he does have an opening for performers, but for now he’s mostly content to watch.

Sometimes, though, he itches to get out of his waiter’s uniform. The black trousers and white tank top with suspenders are nice and all, but he wants to feel satin on his skin and pretty lace. He wants to have red lips and lined eyes and sing duets with Louis.

Harry hasn’t really been able to get to know Louis at all. The only times he even has a moment to talk with him are when he brings Louis and the other dancers drinks. Louis is always nice, flirtatious but also somewhat distant and Harry can only hope he didn’t make too big a fool of himself with his first impression.

Tonight, after the show is over, Harry helps Liam clean up after the dancers all leave. One time he helped James replace the sequins on one of the costumes. He stays for as long as he can every night because he loves this place. It feels more like home than his last actual home ever did.

“Haz, are you sweeping the floor or pretending to be a statue?” James asks affectionately as he passes to collect the money from the till for counting.

“Statue, of course,” he answers without missing a beat, “how’d you guess?”

“Maybe it was the blank look on your face,” James smiles at him just before the _ching!_ of the drawer opening.

That’s the thing Harry’s learned about James. Loyalty and kindness will get you into his heart, and once you’re there, you’re there for good. He reminds Harry of Lissie that way.

Harry gets back to the business of sweeping the floor as James returns to his office with Liam in tow because he likes to have a second count on the money just to be sure he hasn’t messed up. When Harry is done with the main floor, he makes his way backstage, sweeping there as well. James doesn’t require him to but he likes to keep it nice for the performers.

A glimmer of light catches his eye and Harry looks up to see a sequined leotard hanging haphazardly on the costume rack. He moves over to it and pushes it neatly into place between a beaded teddy and a lace bra and panties set. He runs his fingers over the lace wistfully but a crash from the bar breaks his revels. He gets back to work and pretends he can’t still see the rack from the corner of his eye.

*

“I need a whiskey sour for Perrie, a vodka tonic for Jade, and an—”

"…amaretto sour for Louis.” Liam chimes in, matching Harry’s words in perfect unison. “You know you always get his drink first? And you say his name differently than everyone else’s.”

“His name _is_ different than everyone else’s,” Harry argues, setting his empty drink tray on the counter. “Are there any other Louis’? No. And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I asked for Perrie’s drink first.”

“I’m sure you think you’re being clever,” Liam teases, “but it’s always on the first tray. I’ve noticed.”

“Well, I’ve noticed that you should be paying more attention to your work than who I’m getting drinks for first,” Harry retorts.

Liam laughs, shaking his head. “Touchy.”

Harry sighs, “Just give me the drinks, please.”

Liam sets each drink on the tray one by one as they’re finished.

“Thank you,” Harry tells him, picking up the pace so that he can get Louis’ drink to him before he has to go on.

*

Harry is alone. At his two month mark working at Sirens, James had started trusting him enough to let him lockup at night. Now, at four months, he closes most nights. He counts down the till and does his sweeping slowly, picking up chairs and placing them upside down on tabletops, enjoying the quiet echo of every move he makes. Sometimes, when he feels the urge, he’ll get up on the stage and perform for an imaginary crowd. It’s nowhere near as good as it would be if he had the costumes, but it’s enough to make him feel just a little bit more alive.

Tonight, when he makes it backstage he grazes his fingertips over all the costumes on the rack and stares longingly at the vanity tables, glancing at himself in one of the mirrors before he turns away again. He pushes his broom forward and goes back to work.

Normally, he’d sweep right past the door of Louis’ dressing room because the door is always shut and locked tight. But it’s not locked tonight. It’s not even closed all the way and Harry knows he shouldn’t go inside. He does anyway, taking the broom with him because he’s feeling paranoid and at least that will give him and excuse if he’s caught by any ghosts that haunt the halls of Sirens.

Harry switches on the light and gazes around the room in awe. He knows Louis doesn’t keep himself apart from the others performers because he’s a diva or anything. It’s probably a little for modesty’s sake but also, Louis just has so much _stuff_ for his performances. He’s got an entire rack of costumes all to himself. Harry is drawn to them.

He forgets all about his sweeping cover story, setting the broom against the wall and walks over to the shimmering rack. There are so many beautiful things hanging in front of him. He reaches out with no specific intention of what he wants to feel first but his hand lands on a red corset. It’s smooth and glossy and he pulls it out to see that it’s a full set, garter and panties hanging from the hanger as well.

Louis has a full length mirror on the wall opposite his vanity table and Harry steps in front of it, holding the corset to his chest, wondering if it would look as good on him as it probably looks on Louis. He runs a hand over it, down his chest, closing his eyes and imagining what it would feel like on his skin.

“You should try it on.”

Harry jumps at the unexpected voice and turns to the door. Louis is standing there, very obviously trying not to laugh.

“Louis! O-oh my god. I’m sorry,” Harry stutters out, clutching the corset to his chest in fright. He glances down at it and then pulls it away and tucks it behind his back. “This isn’t what it looks like! I was just—”

“You were just wondering what you’d look like in that,” Louis finishes. “Can’t say similar thoughts haven’t crossed _my_ mind once or twice.”

Harry blinks unable to absorb Louis’ words right away. “What?”

Louis smirks. “I think red might be your color actually,” he says, walking up to Harry slowly and reaching behind his back to gently tug the outfit from his hands. Louis holds the corset up to Harry’s chest again. “You should definitely try it on.”

Harry feels a little dizzy with at the idea of wearing the outfit especially with Louis so close to him. “No, I-I couldn’t.”

Louis studies him, tilting his head as he does. “What if you put on this, and I put on one of the others? Would that make you more comfortable?”

Harry whimpers. “I think that might kill me actually.”

Louis laughs. “Well, we can’t have that. Here,” he adds, handing Harry the outfit. “You put this on, and I’ll wait in the other room. Let me know when you’re dressed.”

“But I—”

“Please?” Louis begs, batting his lashes at Harry. “For me?”

Harry swallows loudly. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees shakily.

“Excellent,” Louis bounces happily on his toes a bit and then lunges forward to kiss Harry on the cheek. “I’ll be right out here when you’re done. God, I can’t wait!”

He steps out of the room and pulls the door closed behind him. Harry just stares at it the first few seconds he’s alone and then looks down at the fabric resting in his trembling hands. Just agreeing to put it on got Louis to kiss his cheek, who knows what could happen once he’s actually wearing it.

*

Harry doesn’t know if he’s ready for this. He’s staring at his reflection and he can’t keep his hands off the fabric covering his torso, or his eyes off the bulge of his cock in his panties. He feels amazingly sexy but he doesn’t think that will translate once he opens that door and lets Louis in. He’s a little self-conscious wearing so little in front of this guy he’s been fantasizing about for two solid months. What if he gets hard? What if Louis thinks it’s weird that his legs are already shaved? What if he doesn’t look nearly as nice as he feels like he looks?

“Harry,” Louis knocks on the door. “Are you alright in there? Look, if you’re not sure about this, you don’t have to do it, okay? I don’t want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

Harry looks at the door, then the mirror, runs his fingers through his hair. It’s a little longer now than it was before, he’s decided to let it grow out. And when he looks in the mirror, he still feels sexy so he takes each step to the door gingerly and slowly pulls it open.

Louis has a smile on his face but it disappears as his jaw opens in shock, his entire face going a bit blank. _Oh_ , so that’s what Harry looks like when he’s fantasizing about Louis.

“Do you like it?” Harry asks bashfully, holding his arms stiffly at his sides.

“You look… breathtaking,” Louis answers and Harry can feel a hot blush painting his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, curling his toes against the floor. He’s not sure what to do now that they’re here.

Louis notices his bare feet, eyes trailing up his smooth legs, and he bites his lip. “Oh but you’re not finished yet.” He storms into the room going to a chest over in the corner that Harry hadn’t noticed and pulling out a pair of silky stockings, followed by a pair of red pumps that look much too large for Louis’ dainty feet but might possibly fit Harry’s. “Put these on for me?”

Well, it’s not like Harry has objected to anything Louis’ requested yet. Why start now?

Harry takes the stockings, running them through his hands. “I’ve never- I might need help with these,” he says hesitantly.

Louis sets the pumps down on his vanity and moves to help Harry. “It’s not as hard as it might seem,” he assures, taking the stockings back and gesturing for Harry to sit in the chair at his vanity. He quickly scrunches up the sides of the stocking in his hand until all Harry can see is the toe and then Louis kneels in front of him and helps him slide it up his leg, hands occasionally grazing Harry’s bare skin in a way he’s not entirely certain is accidental.

Soon, Harry has both stockings on and Louis is holding a red high heel in one hand and Harry’s calf in the other.

“So smooth,” he comments quietly, glancing up at Harry’s face as he glides the shoe onto Harry’s foot.

“I like to keep my legs shaved,” Harry admits just as softly. “Makes my clothes feel good against my skin.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Louis answers with a smirk. “I’m sure that’s not all that would feel good up against them.”

Harry’s breath hitches as Louis’ hand caresses his calf, sliding away to grab the other shoe. He’s such a tease and Harry loves it. His panties are telling him he might be starting to love it a little too much.

Once both the shoes are on his feet, he stands to look in the mirror again. Louis was right. Harry looks even better now, and he feels a rush of courage and fear and adrenaline as he sees Louis staring back at him from the mirror.

“See? Breathtaking.” Louis smiles at him. “Come here,” he says, holding out his hand.

Harry turns to take it and lets Louis direct him back to the chair.

“Be right back,” he announces once Harry’s seated and disappears out the door. He comes back quickly, carrying a chair he stole from one of the other vanity tables. “Let’s get your makeup on.”

First, he carefully likes Harry’s eyes with eyeliner. Harry tries to look in the mirror but Louis refuses to let him until he’s done with everything. Light eyeshadow is next, and then a bit of blush. The lips come last.

“You have great lips,” Louis observes, painting over them with a thin brush while Harry tries to stay very still. “Perfectly pouty… very kissable.”

Harry’s glad he’s sitting down because he’s afraid his knees would have given out on him at Louis calling him kissable. He feels like he should say something. _Thank you. Yours are kissable too._ **_Something_**. But he says nothing because Louis is still using that brush on him and he doesn’t want to mess him up.

At last, Louis rubs just below Harry’s bottom lip with his thumb to get rid of a smear and then puts the brush away. He gazes at his handiwork with a soft grin. “Ok, now you can look.”

Harry turns to the mirror and his breath stops. He raises a hand to his face but doesn’t touch it, eyes welling a bit because he’s never felt so beautiful before. “ _Louis_ ,” he breathes.

“You look like a star,” Louis tells him, leaning forward and brushing a stray curl off his forehead.

Harry wants to kiss him so badly. He stares back at Louis, not knowing what to say or do and Louis stares right back.

Just as Harry’s building up the bravery to actually ask Louis if he can kiss him, the moment is ruined by a bellow of “Harold!”

Harry jerks back from Louis, standing abruptly and turning a wide-eyed stare on the door of the dressing room. “Shit.”

Louis’ hand is warm on his arm when he reaches out to calm Harry. “It’s okay. Maybe if he sees you like this, he’ll finally realize that you should be on stage with me.”

Harry looks at Louis incredulously. “You don’t even know if I’m any good.”

Louis smirks. “You’re sort of massively unobservant, aren’t you? Do you know how many nights you’ve locked me in at this place? It’s a good thing I have a key so I can lock up again when I leave.”

_Oh god._

“You— You’ve been here? While I was—”

“Performing your heart out?” Louis finished for him, eyes shining with amusement. “A few times. Do you know how hard it is not to clap when you desperately want to give someone a standing ovation?”

“What—”

“Harold, is that you in there?” James voice comes from right outside the door. It swings open a second later. “Louis’ very particular about his… Oh. Hello.”

James stares, speechless, as Harry stands fidgeting before him with Louis by his side.

Louis carefully reaches over and tangles his fingers with Harry’s loosely. Harry appreciates the gesture.

“Doesn’t he look amazing?” Louis asks their boss.

“You do,” James agrees immediately, “You look… like someone who should be on my stage.”

“I’d like to,” Harry tells him sincerely. “It’s what I’ve wanted since I walked in the front door.”

“Actually, that was why I came back. I forgot to tell you, Camila’s quit on me. I have an opening for a performer. Auditions are tomorrow at two. Don’t be late,” James says, turning to go but pausing for a second to add. “As long as you don’t entirely suck, I think you’ve got a good shot at the job. I know the boss, I’ll put in a good word.” With that he winks and then he’s gone.

“Oh my god,” Harry laughs excitedly. “I get to audition.”

“Babe,” Louis squeezes his fingers, reminding Harry that he’s still holding his hand. “You’ve got the job. There’s no way he’s not hiring you after what I’ve seen.”

Harry pulls Louis into a great bear hug, still laughing because he can’t help himself. This is incredible. He can’t believe this is all happening.

“Thank you, Louis,” he whispers into Louis’ ear while he holds him tightly.

“For what?” Louis laughs. “I didn’t do anything but show you what a bombshell you are in my clothing. Wouldn’t mind seeing what a bombshell you are out of my clothing either.”

Harry pulls back at Louis’ words, studying his face. “Did you just-”

“What? Come on to you?” Louis asks. “Well, I mean. A guy gets tired of waiting around for someone else to make the first move.”

Harry grins. “You want a move?”

Louis raises an eyebrow in challenge and nods.

“I’ve got moves you’ve never seen,” Harry teases, leaning into Louis’ space again.

“Go on, then. Show me. Make a believer out of me, Styles.”

“Trust me, I will,” Harry grins.

*

James writes a whole show around them. Their sexual tension fills every seat in the house and James laments not putting Harry onstage sooner.

Harry wouldn’t change a thing though. He still got a pretty good deal, he thinks. A new home he loves, a new boyfriend he _loves_ , and his name in shimmering lights. And really, what more could a boy ask for?

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked this. Please don't hate me for the no smut thing. I'll give you some in the next part! ;)
> 
> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge. We each select random numbers and are given a specific emotion from the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works), or you can find the masterpost on tumblr [here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> Also, there's a rebloggable fic post [here](http://suddenclarityharry.tumblr.com/post/160229075687/leave-my-old-shadow-behind-fallinglikethis) if you liked it!!


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